That Thing You Do
by Shinoda Senshi
Summary: Curiosity killed the cat... And satisfaction brought it back... *warning: contains slash aka m/m sexual relations*
1. All the Games You Play

**Author's Note: This fic contains extreme slashy goodness. If that's not your idea of a good time, turn away now. For those of you who enjoy a a smokin hot slice of slash, here are a few suggestions before proceeding. Open a window... Turn on a fan... Get a frosty cold beverage... Then ease back your computer chairs and enjoy!**

* * *

**All The Games You Play…**

Jeff Hardy was going to get Chris killed. Jericho was sure of that. Sure right down to his gym socks. Unfortunately, voicing his concerns was about as effective as pissing on a wildfire.

"If he catches us," whispered Chris. "Kane will snap our necks." He rubbed his own neck out of agitation. "We'll be lucky if it's the only thing he does."

Unmoved by Chris' plight, Jeff crept further along the hallway. He knew the locker room was down the corridor. He just had to find it. His partner in crime was not helping Jeff's concentration. "Will you hush up?" Jeff scolded. "I'm trying to figure something out up here. If you're so afraid, why don't you take your punk ass back to the hotel?"

They were harsh words, but Jeff needed Chris. And the only way he could get Jericho to stay was to put the size of his grapefruits into doubt.

The ploy worked.

"I'm no punk ass, Hardy," huffed Chris. He followed closely behind Jeff. "But I'm no fool, either. If we get caught, we'll be tasting the Big Red Machine's boot leather for the next two months. And no amount of ketchup will make it more appetizing."

Jeff glanced sideways at Chris. "What in the blue blazes are you going on about?"

"I dunno… Maybe the fear of getting my ass reamed has made me delirious."

It was sheer force of will that kept the smirk off of Jeff's face. It did not, however, stop him from blurting, "I thought the whole point of this was so you _could_ get reamed by Kane. Or is it rimmed? I forget."

Chris froze, unable to take another step. He was walking with a madman. All common sense told him to run – not walk – to the parking lot, get into his rental, and drive as far away from Jeff Hardy as a full tank of gas would take him.

The plan was insane, the source of information suspect, and the likelihood of either one of them coming out alive slimmer than a Slim Jim.

Again, Chris attempted to reason with the younger of the Hardy brothers. "You are basing all this on a rumor. Unverifiable and most likely untrue. Why don't we just call it a night? Quit while we still have our heads?"

"It is not a rumor!" Jeff spun on his heels to face Chris. His voice reverberated down the empty hallway. So much for the element of surprise. "It is scientifically plausible. More than plausible, even."

Jeff was insane, reasoned Jericho. Yet Chris was no better. Standing in the hallway of a nearly deserted arena, searching for a locker room they had no business going into, Chris was a willing participant. Jeff hadn't twisted his arm. Hadn't put him in a figure-four leg lock. The innuendo had piqued Chris' curiosity just as much as Jeff's.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

Spurred onward by inquisitiveness, Chris sighed, "Let's just get this over with."

"Fine," said Jeff. He continued to lead the way down the corridor.

"But if, for whatever reason, I don't make it out alive," Chris started, "make sure they bury me with my Intercontinental Championship belt."


	2. Gonna Find A Way

**Gonna Find a Way…**

"This is it."

The door was unmarked. It looked like half a dozen doors the two of them had passed on the way. Where it led... Chris did not dare to contemplate.

"How can you be sure?" asked Chris.

Jeff looked at him like Jericho had grown the ears of a jackass. "It's the fourth door on the left after the second right on the next to bottom level. Weren't you paying attention when I explained all this before?"

In all honesty, Chris had been less than focused. His brain boomeranged between excitement and dread. His palms sweated. His pulse raced. His stomach was in knots. He was on the verge of throwing up every other minute. So, no… He had not, in actuality, been paying attention to Jeff's intricate directions.

"Just open the door before I come to my senses."

Open the door Jeff did.

The interior of the locker room was identical to Chris' and Jeff's. Wooden benches, metal lockers, cement walls. For some reason, Chris expected the room to reek of brimstone. Or to find the carcasses of animal sacrifices littering the floor.

The place was downright normal.

Jeff motioned for Chris to follow him further into the room. Speaking was strictly off limits until they returned to the relative safety of the hallway.

Deeper into the unknown the two men trekked. Chris' mouth was a desert. Sweat trickled down his forehead. His clothes were too tight, too constricting. He was hot. He was cold. He was on the verge of passing out. If he made it out alive, Chris swore never to associate with Jeff again.

The splash and trickle of water against tile reached their ears. Located at the end of the rows of lockers were the shower facilities. Clearly, the owner of said locker room was making use of them.

This was why they had come.

On tip-toe, the two inched around the corner.

Rather than employing stalls, the shower area was one large, open space. Five shower heads lined each wall, spaced a few feet apart.

Standing under the center spigot on the left wall, all alone, was their quarry.

Kane.

Naked.

Wet.

Steam from the heated water wafted around his body. Shifting on unseen breezes. Shrouding. Revealing. Hypnotizing.

Chris could not tear his eyes away. He had been stupefied. Whammied. Struck by the thunderbolt. Before him, completely unaware, stood one of the most formidable, most fearsome men in the industry. Kane's destructive nature was legendary. His conscious non-existent. Kane was terrible and terrifying. A walking nightmare. The monster that kicked open the closet door, over-turned the bed, and ate the children.

They should not have trespassed.

There was no escape for Chris. He was awestruck by Kane's beauty. _No_, Chris corrected. Not beauty. Magnificence. Sheer raw, undeniable power. From the curve of Kane's spine to the firmness of his ass. The span of his chest and shoulders. The thickness of his arms and thighs.

Why keep all that hidden? Chris wondered. Who was he saving it for? What lucky bitch or bastard got to wrap their legs around that waist or bear the thrust of those hips?

Kane turned his body to the side. Facing Chris and Jeff, but his eyes remained closed.

_That_ was the reason they'd come.

Leaning against the thick cement wall, Chris simply basked. Drank in Kane, in all his glory. Chris owed Jeff an apology as well as a million thank-yous. This was well worth the danger.

Jeff formed a fist and held it out; Chris bumped it.

"You two gonna stand there all day?" Kane's eyes were still closed. It seemed their presence had not gone undetected.

Chris had no words. For the first time in what had to be forever, Chris Jericho was speechless. Two choices confronted him. Stay or run away. If he could get his legs to cooperate, Chris would have been out of there before the door hit him on the ass. A smirk playing across those sinful lips, Kane opened his eyes. His blue gaze pierced through Chris. Cutting through clothing, flesh, and muscle. Kane could almost see Chris' heart pounding in his chest.

This, thought the monster, would be fun.


	3. You'll Be Mine Someday

**You'll Be Mine Someday…**

_Earlier that evening…_

"You didn't!" Kane dropped his duffle bag onto the wooden bench. "Tell me you did not do that!"

Mark grinned like a cat having come across a lame canary. "Oh, but I did, my dear, dear brother."

"But why? How?"

"It was pillow talk," shrugged Mark. Apparently, he could not understand what Kane was upset about.

If his brother hadn't been assigned as his tag team partner in a match later that night, Kane would have slugged him. "How, in the name of Vince McMahon's jockey shorts, did the size of my penis end up in your pillow talk?"

It was a pertinent question, Mark reasoned. One that deserved a straight and forthright answer. It was just so much fun tormenting the big baby. "If you must know," chuckled Mark, "it was following one particularly passionate bout of lovemaking…"

Kane interrupted, "Lovemaking? Really, Mark?"

Another shrug. "'Fucking' sounds so low-brow. Although, I am not above an awesome fuck."

"You're not above anything," conceded Kane. "Including leaking my measurements to any fool willing to listen."

Mark slapped his brother's shoulder. "You want me to finish or not?" He took Kane's silence as compliance. "Whilst basking in the afterglow, Jeff was curious if my… _endowment_ was a family trait. I assured him that it was, although yours is not in the same league as mine."

"Prick."

"And then things got really interesting. It seems that Jeff's buddy Chris Jericho was also curious as to the proportions of your trouser snake. If it was anywhere near as significant as he'd dreamed, Chris wanted you to, and I quote, '_fuck him through a wall_'. Thus, a conspiracy was born. And, if you play your cards right, you can give your right hand the night off."

There was no question in Kane's mind that his brother was a deviant. These turn of events merely solidified the fact. That being said, Kane had had an eye for Chris for quite some time. If Jericho was as willing as Jeff and Mark were led to believe, Kane was more than capable to deliver.


	4. Let Me Be The One To Hold You

**Let Me Be The One To Hold You…**

After being shoved forward, Chris nearly tripped over his own two feet. He glared back at Jeff. "What the hell are you doing?"

Jeff grinned smugly. "Making all your dreams come true."

For the second time that night, Chris concluded that his friend's gingerbread was not completely baked.

"Chris Jericho!" Kane's voice boomed.

Chris nearly leapt out of his skin. He had no clue what was going on or how he should act.

Jeff prodded him again. "I suggest you get over there before he smacks your bottom. Unless that's what you're into." He left before Chris could muster a reply.

There was a distinct odor of a set up wafting in the air.

Turning slowly, Chris faced Kane. The beast continued to laze beneath the spray of the water. Rivers ran down his chest and stomach. Cutting across his hips. Soaking the dense patch of hair surrounding the object of Chris' fascination. Droplets of water clung to the tip of Kane's cock, hanging precariously before plummeting to the shower floor.

Kane beckoned. "Come join me, Chris."

"Umm…"

"That was not a question. The only response I require is you moving your pretty little ass in my direction."

The fact that Kane did not intend to beat the living snot out of Chris put a bit of swagger in Jericho's step. "You think it's pretty, do you?"

This was the side of Chris Jericho that Kane adored. Brash, egotistical, without a drop of humility. Hips swaying lazily, arms loose and limp at his sides. Chris was an animal waiting to pounce on its prey. Kane could not wait.

Gone was the fear and trepidation. No more quaking in his boots, which Chris quickly discarded. He turned on the taps to the shower heads as he advanced. The spray was cold at first, but quickly heated. By the time he reached Kane, Chris' clothes were thoroughly and completely soaked.

"That's wasteful," Kane noted. "But I like you wet."

"I like you naked. It looks like we're both gonna get what we want."

Kane's fingers threaded through Chris' wet hair. "And what do you want?"

The answer was as clear as the soap bubbles sluicing down the drain.

Chris' hand wrapped around Kane's shaft. Fingertips barely meeting his thumb. Its intense heat was stunning, even in the rising temperature of the showering area. With painstaking precision, Chris slid his hand up, up, _up_ to the tip. Kane's skin slid smoothly along his palm. His thumb worked across the head of the cock, drawing a deep groan from Kane.

Chris obviously knew what he was doing.

"Suck it," Kane ordered. The patter of water against the floor nearly drowned out his words.

Chuckling, Chris initiated his downward stroke. "You sound like DX."

"Whatever gets the job done. Although I believe I am much, much better than those… What's the word? … Assclowns."

_A thick dick and a sense of humor_, thought Chris. _If he fucks as well as he talks, then we're in business._

The infusion of water made Chris' denim jeans uncomfortable. They chafed against his thighs as he sank to his knees.

A warm spray beat at his face. Sliding down Chris' forehead, nose, and cheeks. Droplets speckled his eyelashes, sparkling like precious stones. In Kane's eyes, Chris was beauty in its most natural state. Unadorned. Unembellished. Unmatched by any Diva in the organization. Forget the spandex and the push-up bras and the inch-thick pancake makeup. As far as Kane was concerned, Chris Jericho was the hottest thing on two legs.

Chris lapped at the underside of Kane's cock. Starting at his balls, he licked his way back to the tip. The fingers in his hair tightened as his lips brushed across the head. They moaned in unison when Chris' tongue finally made contact with Kane's sensitive slit. Even as he kept his lips wrapped tightly around the tip, water continued to trickle into Chris' mouth. Each drop infused with a flavor that was uniquely Kane's. The strong, heady essence filled Chris' mouth as completely as Kane's shaft. Every swallow shot waves of heat down his belly, straight to his crotch.

Those jeans could not stay on for much longer. With every slurp and slide along that thick, hot cock, the available space in Chris' pants grew smaller and tighter. The more he sucked, the harder Chris grew until he had no choice but to free himself.

The sound of a zipper coming undone drew Kane's attention. He looked down. A fiendish grin blossomed onto his face. So immense was Chris' desire that his own hardened cock sprouted unashamedly from the breach of his jeans.

Kane's hand pressed at the back of Chris' head. Insistent but not over-bearing, Chris allowed more of the shaft to slide down his throat. He breathed in and out through his nose. He reached his breaking point long before Kane's length could be fully consumed. Still, Chris pressed onward until he was forced to draw back.

Water blurred his vision. Chris struggled to catch his breath. He couched once, then once more. His hand continued to stroke Kane. The mixture of water and saliva made his grip even more slippery.

Undeterred, Kane rubbed the head of his cock across Chris' lips. A pink tongue darted out to greet him. "You like this, don't you?"

"Yes." He flicked the tip of his tongue along Kane's slit, moaning at the essence he drew forth. Chris could not get enough.

Kane slid himself further into Chris' wet, willing mouth. "I like watching you, Chris. Seeing your lips wrapped around me. Watching them slide up and down." He thrust forward with his hips, and then retreated. "Then there's the heat of your mouth. Your tongue… I fucking _love_ your tongue." Kane's hips took action. Pumping and sliding himself deeper and deeper.

Petting Chris' hair, Kane whispered, "Open your throat for me, Chris… A bit more… That's it… Let me give you that deep stroke."

Chris complied. Head tilted back, throat open, Kane went nearly balls deep in Chris' mouth. His hands fiercely gripped Kane's hips. Saliva trickled from the corners of his mouth. Kane's thickness made swallowing nearly impossible. A hot, slick trail of spit wound down his chin and neck.

When he could take no more, he pulled away. Coughing and gasping for air. Thick ribbons of spit bridged the gap between Kane's cock and Chris' mouth. The cascade of water threatened to tear them apart.

Chris wrapped both of his hands around Kane's length. He placed a kiss on the tip. Blue eyes locked on one another, he sighed, "I love your cock." He kissed it again.

Kane cold not keep the grin off his face. "And it's all for you, Chris. It's all yours."

"Mine," murmured Chris. He liked the sound of that. He would not be sharing Kane with anyone. "Mine."

"And I can give you more." Hand on the back of Chris' neck, Kane helped the man rise to his feet. Their gaze did not break. Neither one of them so much as blinked. "Do you want more, bunny?" There was something special about Chris. His openness. His eagerness. The expressive nature of his face. Turning this into more than just a one-time fuck. Now that he had Chris Jericho in his grasp – or, rather, Chris had him – Kane was not about to let him go.

Grasping Kane's strong arms, Chris nodded. He could follow Kane anywhere. "I want more," he sighed. "Give me more."


	5. And Keep You Here With Me

**And Keep You Here With Me…**

Into a far corner flew Chris' sopping wet shirt. Pressing the smaller man against the clammy shower wall, Kane made short work of the rest of the clothing. Jeans, boxers, and socks. Each landing alongside the shirt.

The tile felt wonderfully cool on Chris' back. A distinct difference from the temperature of his skin. One hand clutched Kane's shoulder. The other tangled in that long brown hair. His mouth crashed down on Kane's.

This was no romantic embrace. Chris accepted Kane's term of endearment – embraced it, actually – because it meant that he, alone, belonged to Kane. Chris would own and be owned.

Kane chuckled darkly as Chris' sleek tongue fought for dominance. There was fire in this one. Once he'd recovered from the initial shock of being caught peeping, Chris had not backed down. Had not demurred. He'd sunk to his knees and sucked Kane's cock out of his own desire. It gave Chris pleasure. And if it served his purposes, Chris would climb Kane like a telephone pole.

"Mine," moaned Chris, the word melting into Kane's mouth. "Mine, mine, mine…" He had never pegged himself as the possessive type. Except when it came to title belts. As Kane displayed his awesome power and lifted Chris off his feet, Chris realized that what had started as a lighthearted excursion was quickly transforming into the best night of his life.

They were directly beneath the shower's spray. Water pelted Chris' shoulders as he locked his ankles behind Kane's back. Clinging to Kane with a near-manic grip, he slid himself up and down the man's slick torso. It was a movement of inches, yet, to the erection sandwiched between their stomachs, it was divine. Chris realized he was humping Kane like an out of control teenager. He did not give a damn.

With the evidence of Chris' arousal prodding his abdomen, Kane decided it was time to go beyond heavy petting. He would have Chris Jericho. That night and every night to come.

He lowered Chris to the ground. The man's reluctance to disengage made Kane's heart swell. As well as other parts of his anatomy.

Gently, Kane spun him around. "Put your hands against the wall."

Chris did as he was told.

Something slicker and hotter than shower water trailed down Chris' back. Kane's tongue traced the contours of the man's spine. Starting at the base of Chris' neck, he traversed that flawless span of skin until he has Chris quaking beneath the ridges of his tongue.

Chris struggled to keep himself upright. It was a tough battle was fighting. Despite the steam surround them, goosebumps covered his arms and thighs. His heart thundered in his chest. Excitement and exhilaration thrummed through him, more potent than the screaming cheers of a thousand Jerichoholics.

The weight of their actions began to press onto Chris' mind. The shower section was large and open. Nowhere for them to hide should someone, for some unfathomable reason, round the corner. They were in as compromising a position as they could be.

Thoughts of being caught out by colleagues or arena personnel flew from Chris' mind the moment Kane's massive hands spread him open. A digit stroked his hole. Pressing forward, then retreating. With a slowness that made Chris want to weep, he was invaded. Deeply the digit delved, only to withdraw back to the starting point.

Over and over, Kane teased. Taking his sweet time while Chris could only bite his lip and claw at the tile wall. He was hard; he was more than ready. And if Kane did not get his hips in gear, Chris was liable to shoot his load or lose his mind in the next ten seconds.

With the aid of some shampoo, a second digit joined the first. In and out. Widening the passage. Rubbing against spots Chris did not know he had. Pleasure melded with discomfort as he struggled to hold himself back.

"Now!" growled Chris. After sucking Kane's cock, he was fully aware of its thickness. Logic told him that the more preparation he received, the better the experience would be. Logic, as far as Chris was concerned, could go take a flying leap. Along with decency, self-control, and any other garbage that would impede his pleasure. He wanted to fuck, to rut, to ride this beast until his legs gave out. Consequences be damned. "Do it now!"

Three thick fingers deep inside Chris' ass and he lost the ability to speak. He was all grunts and groans and moans. Kane delighted in the devolution of Chris Jericho. No more back-talk. No more ego. Stripped naked of his flashy clothes, flashy grin, and sassy attitude, an animal lay in wait. One that fought tooth and claw for what it desired. That rocked back on Kane's fingers, determined to take his pleasure into his own hands.

Chris was ready.

Fingers gone. Kane towered over Chris. His hand wrapped loosely around the man's throat. Kane had held many a throat in his lifetime. Usually, the end result was devastating. Bodies were broken. Ring announcers screamed in alarm. Sometimes a stretcher had to be called out.

Drawing Chris's head back, Kane's mind was bent on pleasure, not terror. Wide eyes stared up at him. Vulnerable, yet defiant. No pleas for gentleness or mercy. The only begging was for something hard and thick and deep. Something only Kane could give.

"Do you want this?" Kane's voice was full of dark promises. Promises Chris would make sure were kept.

A shampoo-slicked shaft glided up and down between Chris' ass cheeks. Chris could no more push the Pause button than he could stop the Sun from rising. He was at the mercy of the beast. Bigger. Stronger. More deviant than the Devil himself.

Lost in the depths of Kane's blue irises, Chris reached back. He grasped Kane's cock. Somehow, it felt thicker, hotter. Chris planted his feet, arched his back, and prayed for strength.

Kane leaned down until he was nearly nose to nose with Chris. His long wet strands clung to Chris' chin and neck like silken ivy. One hand circled Chris' throat. Another wrapped around his cock. It was perfect.

Working in unison – one easing forward, one pressing back – Kane glided through that taut ring of muscles. He felt Chris begin to tremble. Panting breaths brushed against Kane's cheeks as Jericho strained to contain him.

"Oh, god…" Chris whimpered. Kane's fingers caressed his throat. It felt as if there would be no end. Kane would simply keep going and going until…

Until…

Chris came. Hard. Muscles clenched around Kane's shaft. Jaw locked wide open in a silent scream. Body shuddering as the violence of his orgasm took hold. Shooting streams of semen onto the white tiled walls. In an instant, the world stopped turning. The only force keeping Chris from floating into space was Kane himself.

And then…

He could breathe. He could hear and feel and move.

If not for Kane's arm around his waist, Chris would have dropped to the floor like a stone. Legs no longer shaking, Chris mumbled an apology. "I'm sorry… I've never had that happen before…"

Kane's laugh was melted dark chocolate to Chris' ears. Devil's food cake to Chris's soul. Sinfully sweet and unquestionably bold. "Oh, bunny… Did you think you would come only once with me?" He kissed Chris' lips. "Silly, silly bunny." The thrust of his hips accentuated each word.

The slap of Kane's balls against his ass created a hypnotizing rhythm. It was like a heartbeat. An involuntary yet constant reminder that Chris was alive. While the sensations spreading through his body were heavenly, he had not yet reached the afterlife. Chris remained in the here and now. He would savor every detail. The tightness of his nipples. The hardening of his formerly spent cock. The humbling might of the fingers around his throat.

For the first time in his life, Chris questioned his own stamina. How much could he take before his body gave out? When would he know? And would he heed the warning once it came? Mouths inches apart, he whispered, "What are you gonna do to me?"

Kane slammed his cock deep into Chris ass, grinding his hips into his buttocks. The cry ripped from Chris' throat made Kane's balls throb. Throwing his head back in triumph, Kane growled, "Everything!"

**END**


End file.
